Garbage Man and the College Kid
by Happily Not You
Summary: Alfred is a high school dropout working as a garbage man. Alfred is a succeeding college boy. They love each other. Smut. UsUk.


**Hey guys! This is probably the worst thing I have ever written... Hope you like it! **

Getting up for work at three o'clock in the morning sucks balls, but it's worth it when eleven o'clock rolls around and Alfred has the whole rest of the day to himself. Plus, it's not like his job is hard. He can listen to his music, doesn't have to deal with any obnoxious co-workers, and he gets to drive a pretty bad ass truck. He wasn't exactly planning on being a doctor or a lawyer or anything. He never had the grades or the patience for bitchy teachers and ass-kissing classmates. As soon as he was sixteen, he was done with school, and he's been hauling garbage for almost a year already.

At quitting time he returns the truck and jumps in his car, heads back to his dad's house and takes a shower. He's considered showing up to Arthur's room still reeking of the job, just to be an asshole, and also to see if Arthur would decide he needed to get pounded badly enough to take it while Alfred was dirty and sweaty from his shift. Still, Alfred can make the clean little college boy pretty dirty even when he shows up smelling like Irish Spring and Axe, so he washes up every time, his skin tingling under the water at the thought of climbing into Arthur's bed just as the full heat of the afternoon settles over the suburbs.

Alfred drums his hands on the steering wheel and blasts the radio on the way to Arthur's house. Summer has just begun, and there's no more long waits through the weekdays, hoping that Arthur will be home on the weekend to do laundry and offer Alfred his ass. Alfred grilled him all year about sleeping with other guys while he's off at college, but Arthur claims that there's nobody else. Alfred has stopped sleeping around himself since reconnecting with Arthur during Arthur's senior year of high school. Alfred got busted for pot and had to do community service at an old folks' home where Arthur was working semi-voluntarily; he needed the community service hours for his college application.

The old folks' home was depressing and they both hated it, Arthur because he felt sorry for the old people and Alfred because the old people smelled worse than the garbage dump. Arthur would sit next to Alfred during his smoke breaks and offer him bites of the candy bars he got from the rec room's vending machine. They'd lived next door to each other as kids, and Alfred had bullied Arthur into some pretty naughty games of doctor back then, while Arthur took revenge by somehow making Alfred think his toys had come to life and wanted to hurt him. Alfred still hasn't figured out how Arthur did that, and they haven't discussed it, nor have they discussed those games of doctor, though Alfred is pretty sure he's got those long-ago afternoons to thank for the fact that Arthur blushes and moans for him now.

He parks a little ways down the street and walks the rest of the way to Arthur's mom's house, the whole neighborhood singing with cicadas. It's too hot to be outside, and there are no kids on bikes or sunbathing teenagers on front lawns. Alfred hops up onto the railing of Arthur's front porch and hoists himself onto its roof, huffing a little, tired from work and already sweating under his fresh Slayer t-shirt. The cicadas reach a crescendo as Alfred sneaks his fingers under the window that Arthur always leaves cracked open for him, and Alfred feels like the bugs are egging him on. So far this summer they've provided a regular soundtrack for his ravishing of Arthur, though he usually only notices them in the aftermath, when they're both panting and sweaty under the blankets on Arthur's bed.

Arthur is still asleep, even though it's almost noon. _Lazy college boy prick_, Alfred thinks with a grin as he toes off his sneakers. He watches Arthur sleeping as he dresses down to his boxer shorts, listening for any signs that the house isn't empty. Arthur's mother's car is gone, and she'll be at work until five, Arthur's little sister off at some day camp. They've got the house to themselves as usual, but Arthur is still pretty quiet whenever Alfred's in him, maybe just out of pride.

"Hey," Alfred says, whispering as he kneels onto Arthur's bed. Arthur moans a little and shifts but doesn't open his eyes, even when Alfred slips under the blankets to lie on top of him. Arthur's skin is warm and a little damp, his cheeks flushed. The air conditioning can't quite keep up with the heat outside, which shimmers over the asphalt and makes the air feel heavy. Arthur is dressed only in boxers himself, and he smiles when his eyes crack open and he sees Alfred leaning up over him on his elbows, touching the tip of his nose to Arthur's.

"Hey," Arthur says, his voice deep and broken with sleep. Alfred wastes no time, leaning in to part Arthur's sleep-swollen lips with his tongue, licking into the heat of his mouth. His breath is a little stale, but Alfred still loves the taste of him. Arthur is like an uncharted island, and he still feels pure and untouched, even after everything they've done to each other over the past two years.

"It's kind of our anniversary today," Arthur says, smiling up at Alfred when he pulls back to catch his breath. Alfred rolls his eyes.

"You're such a chick," he says. Alfred couldn't have named the exact date himself, but he does know that it was June when he first pushed Arthur up against the brick wall outside the old folks' home and kissed him. He'd been curious about Arthur's flirting, wondering if it was intentional or oblivious, and he still couldn't decide which it was when Arthur gasped and blushed before leaning in for more.

"I'm not a chick," Arthur says, scowling. "It's not like I bought you a present or anything. I'm just saying."

Alfred snorts at the idea that they would buy each other presents. They barely see each other outside of Arthur's bed. Back when Arthur was still in high school, Alfred would show up at his window at night, uninvited, and Arthur's heart would pound so hard when Alfred touched him, just like when they were kids, Arthur's eyes going wide and his breath coming out in pants. Alfred gets off on Arthur's innocence, and Arthur gets off of Alfred's grimy wickedness, that's all. When Arthur is off at college, it's not like Alfred lies in bed and obsesses over thoughts about what Arthur is doing, wondering if he's meeting other, smarter guys, older guys with more experience and apartments of their own. He knows this is going to end sooner or later, that Arthur isn't going to end up with a garbage man for a boyfriend. But for now, they've got the summer. Arthur's ass is his for a few more months.

"Such a slut for me," Alfred teases, reaching between Arthur's legs to palm his erection. Arthur moans and arches up into the touch, his eyebrows knitting.

"Its morning wood, stupid," he says. He winds his arms around the small of Alfred's back and gives him a squeeze. "You're sunburned," he says, looking up into Alfred's eyes.

"Yeah, it was a long day of hauling trash." Alfred jokes about the job as often as he can, and makes fun of Arthur for his college boy dreams. If they couldn't laugh about it, the difference between their lives would be unbearable.

"At least it makes you kind of cut," Arthur says with a smirk, running his hands up Alfred's sides to feel his lean muscles.

"Doing a real man's work will do that," Alfred says, pretending to be proud, and Arthur snorts. His blush returns when Alfred scoots down to lick and bite at his nipples. Arthur's little gasps still sound so surprised, even after two years of this, and he whines when Alfred pulls one of his hard little buds through his teeth.

"R-real men go to college, too," Arthur says, running his hands through Alfred's hair as he moves lower, licking his way down Arthur's chest.

"Keep telling yourself that, dork," Alfred says. They talked to each other like this when they were boys, and they haven't broken the habit. The only time they say each other's names with anything resembling tenderness is when one of them is coming in the other's hand.

What happens under the blankets is pretty standard. Arthur is the best lay Alfred has ever had mostly because of the delicacy of his reactions, the way his hands tremble and his eyes slide shut slowly when he's dazed by how good Alfred makes him feel. Also, the way he looks doesn't hurt. He's got a sweet face, pretty eyes, and freckles, all in contrast to Alfred's darker, sharper features. Alfred likes the way Arthur looks at him, too, like he's a little bit scared of what Alfred will do next, but wants to find out.

"Yeah," Arthur moans softly when Alfred pulls his fingers from Arthur's mouth and brings them down between his legs. This is Alfred's favorite part, in a way, just watching Arthur's face as Alfred opens him, getting him ready to be fucked. The first time Alfred fingered him Arthur came like a firecracker and got sort of wobbly afterward, rubbing his nose against Alfred's chest, looking to be held. He needs that kind of stuff, and Alfred gives it to him, calling him a wuss in whispers while he kisses Arthur's cheeks. Arthur grew up without a father and Alfred without a mother. If Alfred were a college boy he'd probably try to make something of that, but as it is he's just glad they complement each other for the time being.

"Ready for me?" Alfred taunts when Arthur is pushing himself down onto Alfred's fingers, whining and flushing hard, his eyes pinched shut. Arthur winces and nods, and Alfred grins as he leans in to nip at Arthur's neck. He tells himself, when he worries about how much longer Arthur will want this, that no matter how many smarter, richer pretty boys Arthur has in the future, nobody will ever fuck him this well. He'll remember Alfred when they're in him, and he'll wish they were him.

They both moan when Alfred pushes in, Arthur's arms winding around Alfred's neck. Alfred is robbed of a thought process for a minute, unaware of everything except the pulsing heat of Arthur all around him and the push of their breath as their chests press together. Arthur starts kissing Alfred's face, his legs lifting up to wrap around the small of Alfred's back, and Alfred comes back to himself, lifting his head and bumping his nose against Arthur's.

"Tight little college boy ass," he murmurs, and Arthur just grins, squeezing around him, laughing when Alfred groans.

"That's right," Arthur says. "So fuck me with your big, working man dick." He laughs again, and Alfred snorts, nipping at Arthur's jaw. _Smart ass_. Alfred knows he's not really much of a man, at least no more than Arthur is, and even though he's always on top, he never feels like more of a boy than he does when he's in this bed with Arthur.

They both forget how to joke about this once they really get going, the bed growing humid with the heat of their bodies as Alfred grits his teeth and starts giving Arthur the pounding he's been dreaming about since they did this yesterday. Arthur goes nuts for it as usual, arching and panting, his hands scrabbling against the wooden headboard of his bed until Alfred pins them to the mattress. Later, he'll push Arthur up onto his hands and knees and make him hold that headboard while he takes Alfred's cock, but he's already too close to coming to change positions. They both go off so easily during the first go-round, but its okay. They're still teenagers, and they can get it up again easily. Their record is five times in one night, which happened when Arthur came home for winter break after his first semester. He'd been gone almost a month, consumed by finals and papers and all that shit. As soon as Alfred was through the window they were on each other, fucking with their clothes still on, flies open and underwear shoved down, Arthur bent over the sides of the bed, biting his hand to keep from screaming. That was a good night, and Alfred ended up falling asleep in Arthur's bed, too drained to climb out the window. He woke up at dawn to find Arthur still curled against his chest, snoring a little, every ounce of energy fucked out of him. It was sort of a proud moment in Alfred's life.

"Gonna come," Alfred says in a growl, thinking about the way Arthur gets when he's well-fucked, punch-drunk and goofy in the aftermath. Alfred has already jerked Arthur to completion, his come cooling on Alfred's chest, slick between their bellies as Alfred braces himself on the mattress and starts fucking Arthur hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall. Arthur is sort of brainless beneath him, moaning like he can't get enough, his heels digging into Alfred's back.

"Yeah," Arthur pants out, his eyes only half-open, lips bitten and red. "Come on. Come on, fucking – _yeah_."

He arches when Alfred slams in with a final thrust, unloading inside him. Alfred flops down to growl his orgasm into Arthur's ear; his hips still working, thrusts growing weaker and weaker as he empties himself. Finally he can't even hold himself up anymore, and he drops down onto Arthur completely, still inside him, deflating with a groan. Arthur's hands slide across Alfred's sweaty back, his palms warm and soft.

Alfred is in outer space for a while, buzzing and sated, his face buried against Arthur's neck. It's Arthur's slowing pulse that brings him back, thumping against Alfred's cheek. Alfred lifts his head and snickers at Arthur's expression.

"What?" Arthur says.

"The way you look."

"Yeah?" Arthur rubs a hand over his eyes. "How do I look?"

"Like you just got your brains fucked out."

Alfred slides out, ready to be free of Arthur's sweltering skin. He kicks the blankets away and stretches out on his back, lying beside Arthur and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of his bedroom.

"What are you gonna do today?" Arthur asks after a while, both of them still breathing a little heavily in the heat of the room.

"Sleep," Alfred says. "Maybe get drunk with my dad, watch some TV."

"I was thinking about going to the water park," Arthur says. He rolls toward Alfred, nosing at his shoulder.

"That's lame," Alfred mutters, thinking of the friends Arthur will go with, other lazy college fucks enjoying their summer off, boys with names like Braden and Tyler.

"I know its kinda lame," Arthur says. "But it's so hot. I don't know. I think it could be fun."

"Well, have a good time with your butt buddies," Alfred says, sitting up with a groan. He'd wanted to hang around for a while, have sex again, maybe take a nap here, but whatever. If Arthur has plans.

"I was kinda hoping you'd come with me," Arthur says, pulling at his elbow. "Being that you're my number one butt buddy."

Alfred laughs a little, staring down at his lap.

"Is this some kind of anniversary bullshit?" Alfred says.

"Fine, be an asshole," Arthur says, and he sounds sincerely mad. He rolls away from Alfred, hugging his pillow.

"It's not like you've ever asked me to go anywhere in two years," Alfred says, something rattling in his chest, making him wish he hadn't said anything.

"Maybe I was waiting for you to ask me," Arthur mutters into his pillow, barely audible.

"You just want me to pay your admission to the water park, is that it?" Alfred asks, leaning down to put his chin on Arthur's shoulder. "Because you're a broke little college boy?"

"Whatever," Arthur says, trying to shrug him off. "I don't give a shit. Go get drunk with your dad, yeah, that's awesome."

"Don't be a bitch," Alfred says, pinching Arthur's sides. "I was kidding."

Arthur rolls onto his back and scowls up at Alfred. With the freckles and those blue eyes, he only manages look adorable, not angry. Alfred gives him a sharp kiss between his eyes.

"Fine, we'll go to the gay water park," Alfred says, his hand sliding down over Arthur's chest.

"Alfred." Arthur smirks. "You know that _you're_ gay, right?"

"Well – yeah – but. You're gayer."

For some reason this makes Arthur laugh really hard, and Alfred tackles him, because he needs one more fuck to get him through the rest of the day. Though really, the day will be easier to get through than usual if Arthur is close by, within ass-grabbing reach, blushing and yelping and doing all those things that keep Alfred coming back for more. He fucks Arthur against the headboard, reaching up to hold onto it, too. He puts his hand over Arthur's, and slips his fingers between Arthur's when they part for him, his sunburned skin looking so dark next to Arthur's.

"You like that?" he asks Arthur, who's looser now, wet and open for him, snapping back to meet his thrusts.

"Love it," Arthur says, gasping the words out and slamming back harder. Alfred goes still for half a beat, thinking he heard Arthur say _Love you_, but he recovers quickly, because that's impossible. So what, two years, the way Arthur reaches for him when he arrives and whines when he pulls away to leave, the light that jumps into his eyes when Alfred grins at him, the fact that he remembers the exact date of their first kiss: so what? Still, when Alfred comes he squeezes Arthur as hard as he can, holding him against his chest, his breath ripping out of him, both of them dripping with sweat now. He drops to the bed, feeling dizzy, and Arthur is too close, his skin all sticky and slick, his body radiating heat, but Alfred doesn't push him away, and Arthur doesn't pull free.

"So," Arthur says when they're close to passing out from heat exhaustion, Alfred's arm draped over Arthur's sides and Arthur's ass snug against Alfred's thighs, both of them so liquefied that it's like they've melted into each other, inextricable now. "Water park?"

"Sure," Alfred says, half-asleep. "If you can still walk."

They clean up as best they can with a damp towel, Alfred borrows one of Arthur's dorky bathing suits, and they head for Alfred's car. It's weird to leave Arthur's house through the front door rather than the bedroom window, but Alfred doesn't say so. His car has no air-conditioning, and they put the windows down, but Arthur's cheeks are still bright red by the time they reach the crowded water park. Once they get inside, Alfred buys lemonade and holds the frosty cup to Arthur's forehead, which makes him laugh.

"Is this my anniversary present?" Arthur asks, taking the cup and drinking from it.

"Pssh," Alfred says, grabbing a belt loop on Arthur's board shorts and pulling him toward the rides. "Getting nailed was your present. This is just. A bonus, I guess."

"A bonus," Arthur says, beaming, and Alfred can tell that he thinks it's more than that, but he lets it go. Arthur has always been sentimental. Alfred remembers watching Arthur play through a hole in the fence between their houses when they were very little, after Arthur's family had just moved in. He remembers thinking that Arthur seemed like such a _baby_; mostly because of the way he hugged his toys. Arthur is still a baby: a soft, wide-eyed college boy, but Alfred has to admit that he's glad to be the one getting hugged by him these days.

**Eh, I guess it wasn't _that _bad. Anyway R & R.**


End file.
